


Untitled Prompt

by Tambores (LovelyAche)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Domestic Fluff, M/M, puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyAche/pseuds/Tambores
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there's a puppy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted the 16th of September, 2009.  
> Gift for Annis_Pekka and Ayumicrea on Livejournal.

If the Master hadn’t ever before wished that the sound of the drums was the only thing clogging up his mind, he definitely was doing so now: with a hand gently massaging his temple and another hovering over the dry whisky’s glass on the bedside table. It had been emptied sometime during the night before, and somehow, despite the pounding headache racking through his mind, he half nursed the thought of rising up to fetch some more of that delicious Scotch they had drank.

Of course, that was utterly impossible at the moment. He hissed, turning on his back and shoving the cushions aside. Not only was the bed’s other side – the one neatly turned towards the room’s only exit – currently occupied by the biggest idiot in the whole universe (including parallel ones). But there was something small and furry trying to climb up his arm. Something warm and furry that just licked the Master’s hand.

Now that was scary.

Pets had always been a complicated matter. Servants, toys capable of withstanding being thrown around and broken were desirable and fun; the Toclafane had been a proof of this – nearly indestructible and providing so much amusement – the prisoners he’d kept were another, albeit pathetic, excuse for a pet. Whereas unintelligent animals, any sort of them – excluding that terrible once in a lifetime kind of encounter with the Cheetah people – were just too dumb, too dull, too lifeless unless they were screaming in pain while being tortured, and not smart enough to be turned into one of his lethal toys easily.

The Master could reiterate forever: He was not interested.

Then, this… furry thing had come along, utterly ruining his lovey dovey time with the Doctor.

Just great.

He yawned, stretching his arms widely as to shake the thing away from his chest; secretly hopping it would fall from the bed, hit its head somewhere and die. Because that was just the problem, if he were to kill it as he yearned doing, the Doctor would be pissed off… and that, it wasn’t such a grand plan after all, not when he was mercilessly laying on his arch’s enemy bed and his legs’ muscles still ached from a night of pounding each other onto the mattress.

“Would it kill you to take this thing away from me?” he mumbled in a disgruntled tone, moving as far down the bed as possible and pushing the thing against the Doctor’s naked hips. It would’ve been a sensual sight, to see him bare like this, if it weren’t for the creature currently trying to climb his body and lick at his face.

“You said you could keep her!” the Doctor cheered merrily as one of his hands rubbed large circles on the puppy’s belly, who kept on licking everywhere it could reach. The Master could swear it was testing his restraint not to just strangle the thing and throw it into a trash bin like the ugly dog it was.

Neither the velvety black fur nor the big head and the even bigger, ever blinking eyes, did change the Master’s opinion about it – her.

“I did never say such a thing,” he commented back, becoming increasingly aware of the headache riling him up. It was the thing’s fault as well! If it hadn’t appeared out of nowhere during one of their wild sex sessions, the Master would never have picked up the alcohol to pass time while the Doctor went nuts with trying to find more about it – seriously, was it really necessary to search the TARDIS archives about dogs? 

“I need a drink.” But the glass was empty, the two bottles of Whisky on the floor were empty as well, and the Master couldn’t muster enough will to get past the Doctor’s mushy comments this early in the morning.

“Aww, come on Master,” the Doctor nudged the puppy on the other’s direction, watching it trot beside the Master with the biggest smile possible plastered on his lips. “What is wrong with her, don’t tell me you don’t like dogs?”

For a moment, he thought maybe they’d somehow switched places and the Doctor was now the insane one.  It certainly felt like that. “What is wrong?!” he repeated scathingly, “You’ve let a dog in our bedroom! That’s what’s wrong.” Maybe he should’ve simply revealed not being into the whole pet thing; but it was a wholly simpler matter if the Doctor didn’t know that. It would kill his reputation.

“That’s it? You’re ashamed of a dog?” Oh no, not this – the Master clenched a fist on the sheets, absently noticing how sticky they were – he wouldn’t allow the Doctor to tease his way out of this one.

“Are you finally out of your mind?” It meant that he needed to be quick and turn the situation around before the TARDIS ended up with a third permanent inhabitant. “I just don’t want it – her, whatever. I don’t want a dog and I certainly didn’t say you could keep her.” Not unless he’d been drunk out of his mind the night before, which he didn’t remember being, but there was always that possibility.

The Doctor tilted his head, eyeing the puppy now nested at the Master’s side despite the other’s obvious refusal. “Why?” he asked, level headed, “It’s not like we can’t keep it, and you know the TARDIS is large enough for her, if that’s what you’re worried about…”

“No!” there was a loud hiss and a bark when the Master finally kicked the dog away again, looking nothing but smug when the little thing hid behind the Doctor’s back, “I just don’t want it around. I don’t and I never will.”

“Don’t be like that, Master.” The Doctor glanced back down at the furry puppy, making sure she was all right before moving closer to the other Time Lord, looking convincingly hurt by his words. “And I can’t just release her somewhere! You know that…” It was a very low move; to call his name and almost beg like that, one that the Master wasn’t going to fall for anymore time.

“Liar.” He sneered, “You have your little playthings on earth, you could just give one of them a call – and I’m sure they’d be deliriously happy to take care of the Doctor’s dog.” He pointed out, condescendingly waving a hand at the other.

“That’s not the point!” the Doctor countered, his previously bright smile now completely gone with a deep worried frown in its place, “I know they would…” To tell the truth, it looked idiotic and the Master wanted nothing more than to wipe it off and replace it with a lustful grin similar to the ones wore by him a few hours before, “I just really want to keep her.”

It was a tentative touch, on the brink of shyness, when the Doctor’s finger slid over the Master’s chest, caressing his nipples just the way he knew would make the other feel good, just the right way. And the Master was tempted, for a moment, to stay and allow this to happen again – to just forget about the dog’s existence – when it barked again, a low pitched tone that revolted the Master’s stomach and made him pull away.

 “Then you know what that means,” sitting by the bed’s edge, the Master’s legs swung towards the floor. His head still hurt – enough to have him wondering about their discussion and whether it was worth or not to pursue this path. It didn’t matter, he’d chosen it and he wasn’t likely to change his mind now. “And I still need a drink.”

 “Are you making me choose between you and a dog?” The Doctor’s eyes widened, obviously surprised by the absurdity of the whole situation.

Nodding quietly, the Master finally decided to skip away, landing on the cold floor with a low thud and threading naked towards the bathroom. Words weren’t needed to solve it, only actions, actions he knew the Doctor was too afraid to take.

“Master…” But it was all too late, whether the Master heard the Doctor’s whisper or not, he didn’t show any sign of stopping or turning around and with a swift turn of the doorknob, he was finally gone, leaving the Doctor alone to play with the new pet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on the 18th of September, 2009.

A few hours later, the Doctor lounged by the TARDIS kitchen, considerably relaxed against one of the absurdly colored seats, with the puppy on his lap, licking at his grease and flour covered fingers. Both looked quite delighted. The puppy grumbled loudly on his stomach and his Time Lord companion laughed along, occasionally glancing at the utter mess that had taken over the nearest counter.

It nearly looked like a shot taken from a book reporting on the state of several planets after intergalactic wars that the Doctor had found some centuries ago in some random galaxy – details weren’t that important – not when they spoke of comparing a kitchen to a battle field.

However, in this case the similarities were evident. There seemed to be a sticky, pinkish paste clinging to the neatly pilled kitchen utensils, in a state that resembled those of landmines after exploding, covered in blood.

Despite the satisfied twinkle of his eyes or the TARDIS’ machinery seemingly content hum it wasn’t a pretty, nor a clean scene.

And the Master could only agree.

 He stepped inside, barefoot and wearing a fresh new white shirt from one of the ships’ wardrobe rooms – always white, for some reason he couldn’t grasp, there just weren’t enough dark colored garments on board, and close to nothing was pure black; which was often disappointing, considering he always looked better in black – and he nearly gawked, lips falling open, at the prospect of the room right before him.

The door fell closed behind him with a soft clicking screech, and the Master threaded forward cautiously, glancing at every corner as if he expected something to reach out from the scattered mess and jump at him.

But nothing happened.

Nothing at all; the only movement inside was caused by the puppy leaning further back against the Doctor’s chest and flattening his ears in fear against its head, as the Doctor used his clean hand to pet its fur, stroking it gently while he smiled up at the Master.

“Pancakes?” the Master’s eyebrows furrowed together as he stepped a little closer. “Enjoying yourself?”” he muttered teasingly, moving by the counter to watch where a dirty bowl of pancake mix waited to be cooked.

“Mhmm.” the Doctor said half-heartedly, rising up from his perch. “Nothing better than a good pancake after waking.” he smiled wryly and placed the little puppy on the floor, watching as it went to hide behind his legs like before in the bedroom.

“It took getting a dog for you to finally make pancakes?” after picking up a spatula and a frying pan from the nearest shelf, and setting up a bottle of oil over the table, the Master continued, “Or were you waiting for me to come and do this?

There wasn’t any sort of resentment tinting his tone; only a fair tad of amusement and a small amount of mischief as he started preparing the pancakes, skillfully enough for the Doctor to tilt closer and watch. Methodically, the Master dipped a large concave spoon in the mix, once, twice, before dropping it on the boiling oil and watching it all fry away. It didn’t take long until their odor started to lazily drift across the kitchen, and it smelt absolutely delicious.

 “I wasn’t, but you don’t seem misplaced.” the Doctor commented casually in reply, leaning against the wall and watching the Master work.

The other took a moment, just after flipping one of the pancakes aside and placing it on a plate, to dig through one of the drawers bellow the counter and avoid replying. Only to emerge a few seconds later, grinning successfully and placing the jam jar over the table. Blueberry, just his favorite.

“I do know my way around a kitchen,” he grinned, rolling his eyes slightly. It wasn’t a lie, during his times on the Valiant; he’d often visited the kitchen area, mostly to mock the employees, although the Master did prepare his own meals on occasion – after all, it just wouldn’t do to be poisoned by the 5o’clock tea he enjoyed so much. (Especially when it meant he got to sweep the Doctor around!)

The Doctor nodded, bowing his head down and taking a good sniff out of the plate of pancakes. “That’s good!” and before another moment went by, he quickly added. Almost too quickly, suspiciously so. “It needs a name.”

And his apprehension was quickly confirmed.

Rolling his eyes, the Master snorted and went back to work on finishing the pancakes (there was only so much mix left, and we wasn’t about to left it waste until who knows when the Doctor felt like doing this again), not answering for nearly another minute, not until they were all finally done – fluffy inside, yet crunchy on the edges – just how he preferred them. Only after having set a pair each on two separate plates, did he turn around and back at the Doctor, teeth gritting together in mild annoyance.

“It’s your dog, Doctor. I have nothing to do with that.” he brandished a fork at the other, having just sliced a division out of his pancake, almost mathematically so – a perfect one third of it.

The Doctor was playing this game of acceptance, and he refused to comply. Perhaps, he just wanted to listen to the other’s pleading breaths against his ear, pleading for him to accept the dog into their sort of companionship, perhaps he didn’t. There was more than sheer stubbornness behind it, he wasn’t the Doctor. But whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be logical enough for him to voice it out. So this was how they stood. He tapped the rhythm of it out on the table’s surface; slightly faster, slightly less predictable than just the drums inside his head.

“Master…” there was a soft sigh, followed by an approving moan as the Doctor eagerly dug into his pancakes. The nameless dog stood nearby, close to the Doctor’s legs, still too frightened to move closer to the spaceship’s other inhabitant.

“Call it ‘pancake’, if you like them that much. “ the Master suggested mockingly with a groan; freezing in horror just as he saw the serious, encouraging look on the Doctor’s face.


End file.
